


Ambition

by Burning_Nightingale



Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 19:29:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16204142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Nightingale/pseuds/Burning_Nightingale
Summary: Thrass and Thrawn gain their names, join the Family, and get into trouble.





	Ambition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shanlyrical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanlyrical/gifts).



When Chuum'ras'safis finishes his final year at the Academy, he sees only one path in his future.

He will join the military wing of the Nuruodo Family, his scores impressive enough to earn him merit-adoptive status of the lowest rank; then he will defend and serve his people, until injury or advanced age force him to retire. Such a career will set him up for a comfortable end to his life, though that is quite possibly the least of Rass' concerns. He will be content simply to be engaged in something worthwhile; to be making a difference.

As usual, Chuum'raw'nuruodo wishes to step from the appointed path; to be unorthodox. And this time, he's dragging Rass with him.

"The Mitth family?" Rass asks, staring at the datapad Rawn has handed to him. "But why-?"

"The Nuruodo have more warriors than they know what to do with, and more applicants all the time. Imagine how many from our graduating class are petitioning to be made Nuruodo merit-adoptives even as we speak." Rawn's smile is sly and annoyingly self-satisfied. "But the Mitth also need warriors."

Rass grimaces, because he always hates to admit it, but Rawn is right. The Mitth may be responsible for culture and the arts, but all the Ruling Families employ warriors. It's the kind of cunning, outside-the-box thinking that earned Rawn both admiration and scorn at the Academy. "I imagine you've already applied for both of us?"

Rawn shakes his head. "Not this time, brother. You're free to choose your own path. The Nuruodo are waiting, if that's what you want." His smile is triumphant; he seems to have already guessed what choice Rass will make.

It will be worth it, perhaps, to try another tack. Easier to stand out from the crowd, without all the other talented merit-adoptives drawing the Family's attention.

"Alright then," Rass says, "I'm in."

~

He feels an unexpected pang of loss, to see the 'Chuum' gone from his name. From one morning to the next, all his IDs and logins have changed, and suddenly he is Mitth'ras'safis for real, everywhere he looks. All being well, he won't see the 'Chuum' again for a very long time - perhaps never.

"Pateel told me most new merit-adoptives adopt part of their new family name in their core name," Rawn says, as they sit eating together at the end of their first week as merit-adoptives of House Mitth. "So from now on, my core name is going to be Thrawn."

"Thrawn." Rass tests the sound out on his tongue. "I don't know. I've been calling you Rawn since we were children."

"And now, children no longer, we will call each other by adult names." Rawn takes a sip of his uluum tea, then says, "I think you should be Thrass. It sounds sophisticated. That suits you."

Rass tries the name out, repeating it a few times just as he had for Rawn's new name. "I was only just getting used to the 'Mitth'," he complains.

Rawn leans over and pats his arm. "You'll get it in time. I think you'll even come to like it."

Rass draws a heavy sigh. "Fine. You are Thrawn and I am...Thrass. Happy?"

His brother smiles. "When you adopt my ideas? Always."

Rass resists the urge to smack him.

~

He makes a conscious effort to think of himself as 'Thrass', to refer to himself by his new name, just to see how he likes it; and after a while it seems natural. He is Mitth'ras'safis, Thrass, a low-ranking lieutenant in the private phalanx of House Mitth, and his brother is Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Thrawn, an officer of similar rank and position. His career includes a lot more escorting dignitaries and helping crew luxury Family spaceships than military drills or fleet patrols, but it's still the sort of life he expected, mostly.

That is until Thrawn turns up in his quarters, and cool as a teppucumber, drops another life-changing datapad onto his caf table.

Thrass sits down opposite him, eyeing the datapad with no small amount of trepidation. "What's this?"

"Information about a mission being put together by Aristocra Mitth'ama'nras," Thrawn says, smiling slightly. "An expeditionary mission."

Thrass reaches out and pulls the datapad toward him slowly. "An expeditionary mission? Being put together by a leading member of House _Mitth_?" Colonial exploration is generally the remit of either the Expansionary Fleet or House Csapla, not their own Family.

"An oddity, I know," Thrawn says, still smiling. "But as far as they can tell, this newly discovered planet has already been colonized by the Chiss."

Thrass looks up at him sharply. "How could that be possible?"

"That's what we need a Mitth Aristocra - especially one with such wide archaeological experience - to find out." Thrawn indicates the datapad. "As I said, all the pertinent information is there. Mitth'ama'nras has appointed me as commander of the small force of Mitth soldiers accompanying her on this mission, and asked me to pick my team. The offer's open, if you want it."

A commander already, even of such a small contingent. Thrawn is climbing incredibly fast, no doubt impressing members of the Family left right and centre; Thrass has to tamp down on a twinge of jealousy. He might be rising, but he hasn’t forgotten his brother; the datapad in his hands proves that. "I don't need to look," he says, setting it down, "I can't let you wander off into uncharted territory on your own, now can I?"

~

The trip out to the star cluster they'll be exploring is, to Thrass' surprise, uneventful. Instead of the luxury starliner a noble like Mitth'ama'nras might usually travel in, their ship is ex-military, sleek and uncompromising. It reminds Thrass of the flight training and practise exercises he used to participate in back at the Academy.

The Aristocra herself is somewhat reclusive, a classic obsessive academic type. That suits Thrass and her other staff very well, as it means they can get on with the tricky business of flying through uncharted territory without untimely interruptions or demands from a pampered aristocrat.

Once they're in orbit, Thrawn escorts the Aristocra onto the bridge. "We've already checked the Expansionary Fleet's findings, ma'am. There's breathable atmosphere, though the temperature is sub-optimal. It seems the planet is going through an ice age, much like Csilla."

For a moment Mitth'ama'nras says nothing; then she glances around, and gestures for the small crew to draw closer to her. "I have been debating whether to tell you all this," she starts, "but I feel it would be unfair and potentially dangerous to withhold missions critical information from you all. Before I continue, however, I need your sworn word - each of you - that what I tell you now will not be repeated to a soul outside this group."

There's a pause while they all give their word, a ritualized formality that doesn't take long. Then, Mitth'ama'nras says, "There have been theories for several centuries now that Csilla was not, in fact, the world of the Chiss' origin."

These words are met with shocked silence, into which the Aristocra continues, "We have only scattered records from the time before the cataclysm caused by the onset of Csilla's ice age. But from what we do have, historians are starting to piece together a picture that may - perhaps - show that Csilla was once a colony world itself, and that our true homeworld was a different planet entirely." Mitth'ama'nras nods to the icy world displayed in the centre of the viewport before them. "You can now better understand our excitement when we heard about this planet."

Thrass can - and he can also now understand why the Mitth had been so eager to make an independent mission out here. Discovering the true origin of their species - that would be a find that would make the Mitth Family position secure for decades to come, if not centuries.

"Thank you for telling us, ma'am," Thrawn says softly. "How would you like to proceed with our exploration of the planet?"

"I've been drawing up a list of sites it is imperative we investigate," she says. "Perhaps you can advise on which it would be easiest to visit first?"

"It would be my pleasure," Thrawn says. "Perhaps we might retire to the observation deck, to let the crew finish stabilizing the ship in orbit?"

As they walk away, Thrass is sure he can see a spring in Thrawn's step; though whether from the Aristocra’s trust in his opinion or from the information she just gave them, he can't tell.

~

When Thrass wakes, for a moment he remembers nothing, and all he sees is white.

Then someone's pulling at his clothes, flipping him over, repeating, "Rass! Rass!" over and over.

Thrass coughs out a mouthful of thick snow and says, "It's Thrass now."

There's a relieved laugh somewhere above him. "Well excuse me, Second Lieutenant Mitth'ras'safis," a familiar voice says.

Thrass' eyes focus first on Thrawn's face, then on the towering ceiling of the ice cavern high above them; and then he remembers. "We fell through a crevasse," he murmurs, looking up at the soaring, bright blue ice above them.

"Yes." Thrawn's gloved hand touches his forehead. "Are you feeling alright? You look pretty out of it."

"For a moment I couldn't remember where I was, or what happened," Thrass admits. "It's come back to me now," he adds quickly when he sees Thrawn's worried expression.

"Maybe you'd better sit here for a little while."

"And freeze?" Thrass holds up a hand to his brother. "Help me up, and let's see if there's a way out of here."

Thrawn hesitates for only a second before leaning down and pulling Thrass out of the snowbank that seems to have cushioned his landing. "The crevasse curves, so I can't see up to the top," Thrawn says, pointing upward. "Hopefully the Aristocra and the rest of the team think to go back to the ship and use the high power scanning equipment to find us."

"Oh, I'm sure they'll remember eventually," Thrass says. "For now, though, I think I see a tunnel over there."

Thrawn turns, and Thrass sees the moment he spots the dark, yawning mouth of the tunnel. "I would have thought you'd prefer to stay here," he says slowly, looking at Thrass. "Staying here is safer, since the crew know this is where we fell."

"True," Thrass agrees, "But that tunnel looks shaped, like the ones on Csilla. And if we were to follow it, and find evidence of the Chiss' origins on an alien planet..."

"The Mitth would make us Trial-born without a second thought," Thrawn says softly, and Thrass can see the naked hunger in his eyes. "Come on, then. Let's get going."

The tunnel is long and dark, lacking the natural light that filters down through the ice in the tunnels on Csilla. They must be too far under ice here for that, and Thrass wonders if these tunnels were always that way, or if these tunnels were once filled with light, before the ice overhead built up.

They've been walking for a while when Thrawn says, "I didn't think you were aiming to become Trial-born."

Thrass looks at him in surprise. "Isn't everyone?"

Thrawn shakes his head. "No. Some really are content being merit-adoptives."

"You sound like you disapprove of that."

"I disapprove of not aiming high," Thrawn says. "I always have. Just because not everyone will make the grade, doesn't mean everyone shouldn't be trying."

They walk on in silence for another minute before Thrass says, "It wouldn't be the end of the world, to me, if I didn't become Trial-born. If I have at least given my all, and done my utmost, that will be enough for me."

Thrawn seems to chew over these words for some time. Eventually he says, "But for me, I believe that if perform my best, that will be worthy of becoming Trial-born. Some certain part of me knows I will not have done all I can if I don't achieve that."

"Strangely enough, brother, I think you're right." Thrass tilts his head. "Is that light up ahead?"

Predictably, their search doesn't lead them to a major archeological discovery. It does lead them to the huge rift in the ice their group had originally been aiming to enter, though, where they find the Aristocra and the rest of the party, who seem very relieved to see them. The rest of the trip goes a lot smoother, and though the Aristocra doesn't find definite proof that this lonely planet is the former cradle of the Chiss species, they do find lots of old ruins and artefacts, enough to keep the Mitth scholars going for several years, in Thrass' opinion.

It's on the trip back that Thrawn corners him on the observation deck, once everyone else is either in bed or on shift. "I've been thinking," he says slowly, looking out at the blue storm of hyperspace and not at Thrass. "I'm not living up to my potential here."

Thrass is surprised to be unsurprised; but he's always expected this conversation, he realizes. "Let me guess," he says, "You're joining the Expansionary Fleet."

Thrawn smiles; a real smile, without any sly edge or mockery. "Am I that obvious?"

"Yes." On impulse, Thrass leans forward and kisses his brother on the brow. "But you have my blessing. Go explore the stars, brother."

"Will you be waiting, when I come back?" Thrawn asks - and Thrass can tell he's only half teasing.

He smiles. "Always."


End file.
